


Supply Run

by cheshcat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair Being a Dork, Banter, Because That Trope Never Gets Old, But Isn't That Why We Love Him?, Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, Oh No You're Hurt Let Me Help You, One Shot, Wounded, and some pining, any excuse, literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshcat/pseuds/cheshcat
Summary: Elissa Cousland gets injured on a supply run with Alistair. He patches her up, but it's going to be a cold night out in the woods.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	Supply Run

**Author's Note:**

> Digging this stuff out of my hard drive because sharing is caring. Comin' at ya straight from 2015. <3

'Are you alright?' Alistair asked, still a little breathless.

The two Grey Wardens were surrounded by a motley collection of bandits, all of whom had two things in common: they had picked on the wrong travellers, and now they were dead because of it.

'I'm fine.'

Alistair cast a glance in Elissa's direction as he wiped blood from his sword. She looked back at him, sheathing her own blade.

'Seriously, I'm fine,' she repeated, stretching. 'You need to stop worrying so mu-- argh!'

Elissa stumbled to one knee with a grunt, clutching at her waist. Alistair rushed to her side, his stomach a nervous knot. He didn't like to see anyone in pain, especially not _her_. He considered, not for the first time, that he might be in the wrong line of work.

'See? Not fine,' he chided, lifting her arm over his shoulder. 'Can you walk?'

'I think so,' she nodded. Her mouth was set in a grim, determined line. 'Bastard must have got me worse than I thought.'

Supporting her as they stood, Alistair saw a fresh gout of blood trickle past Elissa's fingers. His concern deepened. A lack of healing items was the very reason they were out here alone; it was supposed to be a simple supply run, something the two of them could easily handle. They hadn't been expecting trouble.

'We need to get out of here,' he said, half to himself, surveying their immediate surroundings.

They were almost exactly halfway between camp and the small town they'd been heading for, a solid day's travel in either direction. Glancing down at Elissa's quickly paling face, Alistair knew that that was too far for her to go without treatment. He cursed under his breath.

'You swear pretty well for a Chantry boy,' she murmured, managing a lopsided smile.

'I learnt from the best,' he replied, throwing her a wink. The expression fell off his face quickly, however, as a fresh wave of pain made Elissa grimace.

'I need to have a look at that wound. You're not going anywhere but the Maker otherwise.'

'Good,' she declared. 'We need to have words.'

Alistair scoffed, unable to suppress a smile as he continued to scan their environment for options. He spotted a small wooden hut, almost hidden in the trees. It would have to do.

'Raincheck on the blasphemy?' he asked. 'I'd much rather keep you alive. No one else endures my jokes so gracefully.'

Elissa groaned in mock exasperation, although the levity was somewhat undermined as she winced in pain.

'If you insist.'

'Wonderful!'

They made way to the wooden shack, Elissa smothering pained gasps whenever the movement jolted her injury. Alistair left her propped up against a nearby tree as he drew his sword, gingerly pushing open the door. It swung open on a rusty hinge to reveal a blessedly empty single room, dusty but dry. _About time we had a bit of luck today._

'Stay there,' he ordered, jogging back to grab their packs from the roadside. They had limited supplies with them: bedrolls, some food, and the last of the healing items from camp that Wynne had nagged them into taking. Alistair made a mental note to thank her, and consider taking at least _some_ of her profuse advice.

Returning, he laid out a bedroll and blanket before helping Elissa the last few feet into the hut. He was surprised to hear a tired chuckle as he closed the door.

'What's funny?'

'Oh, just...' she gestured at the makeshift bed and the cobwebbed walls of the rickety hovel. 'Imagine what Zevran is going to say when he hears about this. Positively _scandalous_ , us running off together to such a glamourous locale.'

Despite himself, Alistair felt a sharp pang of jealousy. Flirting was so easy for Zevran. Elissa seemed to enjoy the elf's banter, playing along to see just how risqué they dared get, but they weren't... they weren't... were they? _By the Maker._ He began to blush at the thought, shaking his head to rid himself of the encroaching images. There were more important things to worry about right now.

'Are you alright, Alistair?'

'I'm supposed to be asking you that, remember?' he reminded her, cocking an eyebrow. She looked pale and tired, and he felt the knot of worry in his stomach wrench tighter.

'Come on then, off with it,' he said, gesturing at her armour with a confidence he didn't feel.

Elissa began to tug at the many buckles and straps, wincing as she did so. Alistair stepped forward to help, lifting the heaviest parts away so that she didn't have to. She hissed in pain as he removed the final piece, clapping her hands to her side again and leaning heavily against the wall. Her undershirt had a long, ragged tear through it.

'Let me see,' he said softly.

She hesitated, and he gave her a sterner look. Relenting, she removed her hands from the wound. They came away sticky and red. Alistair sucked a breath in through his teeth.

'I told you you should have worn mail.'

It looked like one of the bandits had managed to glance her with a sword as she spun to attack. There was a clean line that started near her navel and continued around her hip, precisely the area that a chainmail shirt would have covered - if she'd been wearing one.

'I honestly didn't think we'd run into any trouble,' she said. 'I almost didn't put armour on at all.'

'Well thank the Maker you did,' Alistair replied, chewing on his lip and eyeing the injury. 'I'm going to have to stitch it up. Will you be alright for a minute?'

She waved vaguely at him - that meant yes, apparently - before sitting down stiffly on the bedroll.

'Has the bleeding stopped?' he asked, pulling at the clasps of his armour. It was too unwieldy to wear for delicate work like stitches. 

'I think so.'

She sighed, giving Alistair a tired smile when he looked up from unbuckling his breastplate.

'I guess I'll have to find a man who likes scars, eh?'

 _Any man would be lucky to have you, scars or not_ , he thought to himself. As he worked to remove his own heavy armour, Alistair ruminated on the feelings he'd long since given up denying. He had no idea if Elissa felt the same and no idea how to broach the subject, even if he'd had the courage. Besides, he'd seen the way Zevran flirted. He'd never be able to match that for charm.

Sighing, he removed his chainmail shirt and felt his mother's amulet fall against his skin. Elissa had found it in Redcliffe Castle, giving it to him with an uncharacteristically shy smile that had made his heart ache. He'd never felt such longing in his life. Looking down at her now, vulnerable and in pain, he felt a stab of the same ferocious love.

Finally divested of the cumbersome plate and mail, Alistair shivered. Autumn was coming on fast, and the nights were getting colder. He knelt down beside Elissa, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. She jumped, lost in her own contemplation.

'I need to have a closer look at that wound.'

She nodded, shifting so that he had better access to her side.

'This was all a ploy to get me out of my clothes, wasn't it?' she said over her shoulder. 'You could have just asked.'

Alistair blushed.

'I'll remember that next time.'

'Next time, eh?'

'Oh, stop it,' he pouted, his cheeks reddening. 'If you want to bleed out, there are faster ways than embarrassing me to death.'

Elissa chuckled, although it quickly turned into a grimace of pain.

The shirt she'd been wearing underneath her armour had been white once; now it was mostly red. Alistair reached out a tentative hand, lifting the torn, damp fabric to reveal bruised and bloodied flesh.

'Lie down,' he instructed, turning to retrieve a needle and bandages from his pack.

Elissa did as she was told, pillowing her head on one arm and watching Alistair's back. Gratitude washed over her, forcing a smile to her lips. Where would she be without him? His sweet cheerfulness kept her in touch with her humanity, even after everything they'd been through. She owed him so much more than he knew. 

'And what is there to smile about?' he asked her, returning to her side.

'My trusty saviour, of course,' she teased. Then, with mock seriousness: 'My thanks, Ser Alistair.'

He pulled a face at her. Hearing her say his name did funny things to his insides.

'You won't be thanking me when I'm sticking you with the pointy thing over and over,' he retorted, brandishing the needle.

She smirked, eyes alight with amusement. Taking a minute to reassess what he'd just said, Alistair groaned, feeling his face burn right up to the tips of his ears.

'You're a cruel woman,' he told her. She just smiled back at him.

'Now, hush and be still.'

He lifted her shirt until it sat bunched under her breasts, trying to ignore his racing pulse. Allowing his fingertips to skim her waist, he washed the area around the wound tenderly, silently marvelling at her soft skin.

Despite her teasing, Elissa was intensely aware of how exposed she was, although it wasn't necessarily unpleasant. Alistair's touch was reverent, and she found herself longing to touch him back. She imagined him exploring the rest of her body, picturing a rapt expression of wonder - and desire - on his innocent, golden features.

'I'll be as gentle as I can,' his voice broke into her reverie. She nodded, closing her eyes and bracing for the pain, making a mental note to revisit that mental image under more pleasant circumstances.

It took Alistair perhaps five minutes to stitch the entire wound from front to back. It wasn't deep and hadn't hit anything vital, for which he was deeply relieved, but he didn't miss the way Elissa winced, biting her lip to try and keep her expression under control. Hurting her - even for a good reason - deeply unsettled him, and he was just as relieved as she was to be done.

He leant back when he was finished, and she cracked one eye open at him.

'Ow.'

Putting an arm around her, he helped her to sit up.

'I'm sorry.'

'It wasn't you that had the sword,' she reminded him with a smirk. 'And you _did_ warn me about the chainmail.'

Their faces were close, and Alistair felt a powerful urge to lean in and kiss her. He had to fight it for a few moments. Heat burned in his cheeks and his throat was full of dangerous words like _I love you_ and _please don't ever leave_ and _Maker, you're beautiful_. He turned away, coughing awkwardly. Hopefully the internal struggle hadn't been visible on his face.

He reached for the bandages laid at his side: steeped in a medicinal poultice, they ought to speed Elissa's recovery and numb some of the pain. At the very least, they would hold her together until they could reach a real healer. Catching his drift, she lifted her shirt up again, wrinkling her nose as it crackled with encrusted blood.

Alistair wrapped the bandages around her middle several times, putting his arms around her and passing the fabric between his hands behind her back. The proximity made his heart race again and he avoided meeting her eyes, certain he would not win another battle of wills with his feelings.

'Thank you,' she said when he was done, pulling her shirt back down to decency.

'Well, I can't just let you die, can I? Wynne would kill me.' He paused. 'And Leliana. And Sten. And Dog. I bet even Morrigan would have something to say.'

He smiled at her, hoping that the colour coming back to her face wasn't just a trick of the failing light.

'You should rest,' he continued. 'I was never any good at sewing, you know. You could fall apart at any moment.'

'You have _no_ idea,' she said.

With the light fading fast, there was little else they could do but get settled in for the night. Alistair went out for one last perimeter check. The woods surrounding them were clear; as he'd suspected, there was little other human activity in the area. The locals likely knew it was bandit territory, steering clear of what the both of them had walked blithely into.

Returning to their makeshift camp, he found it glowing from within, the warm light of a lantern spilling out of the open doorway. Despite the unfortunate circumstances that had landed them here, he couldn't deny how much he relished the opportunity to be alone with Elissa. She was always surrounded by her companions, all drawn to her for the same reason he was: she was good. A person worth knowing, worth protecting, and - in his estimation - worth loving.

Closing the door behind him, Alistair triumphantly declared them safe for the night, although there was a palpable chill settling in as the sun's heat began to dissipate. It was going to be cold tonight, and they couldn't start a fire in a rickety wooden shack.

Sitting himself down next to Elissa, he worried his lip over the issue before catching movement in the corner of his eye. He watched surreptitiously as she fidgeted, plucking at her torn undershirt, her face crumpled with distaste. The fabric was stiff with dried blood. Shaking his head, Alistair pulled his own roughly woven shirt over his head.

'Here.'

When she looked blankly at him, he threw it at her.

'Ew,' she complained, pulling it off her face. 'It smells.'

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

'Well, if _you'd r_ ather go topless?'

'You wish.'

'I would never,' he replied, feigning indignation and ignoring the part of his brain that was very effusively saying yes, yes he did wish.

She chuckled at him, but still didn't move to put the shirt on.

'Are you sure? You'll be cold.'

'It's going to be cold no matter what,' he said. 'Just put the damn thing on.'

He shuffled around, turning his back to give her a modicum of privacy. The inside of the hut was filled with soft rustling sounds as Elissa got undressed and Alistair felt his blood running hot in his veins. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt at decency, only to be met with some equally lascivious images in his mind's eye. _Oh, Maker._

'Done,' she declared.

Turning around, Alistair was unable to suppress a laugh. She looked ridiculous in the shirt, which completely swamped her. At the same time, however, it made something possessive uncurl and flex in his gut. Nor did he fail to notice how the notch in the neckline fell low, revealing no small amount of the soft valley between her breasts. He gulped.

'It suits milady perfectly,' he observed, performing a small half-bow over his crossed legs to try and hide his burning face.

'High fashion, I'm sure,' Elissa murmured. The shirt was still warm with Alistair's body heat and it made her ache. It took all of her self-control not to visibly rake her eyes over his broad chest, but she didn't quite succeed. Her eyes narrowed.

'What?' Alistair asked, looking mildly panicked, terrified that she'd somehow read his thoughts. He felt like they were screaming out of his head.

Shuffling towards him, she put a hand on his arm. Her fingers were ice cold and he instinctively covered them with his own, giving her a confused look.

'You're coming out in goose pimples already,' she admonished him. True enough, the fine blond hair on his arms was standing on end, and he felt himself shiver again. Whether it was from the cold or Elissa's proximity, however, he'd have been hard pressed to tell.

'Come on,' she insisted, some strength coming back to her voice. 'This won't do.'

Pulling away from him, she tugged a pack and another blanket closer to them. Alistair didn't dare move as she put the blanket around his shoulders. She had a fearsome reputation these days - and one well earnt - but she was never more determined than when she was helping other people. He smiled, feeling his heart swell for her.

Elissa returned to rummaging in the pack before producing a handful of trail rations for them both. Then she made Alistair's heart stop in his chest completely.

She placed herself firmly in his lap, fidgeting until her back was flush against the naked skin of his chest. He felt himself gaping, his mouth opening and closing several times before he managed to clamp it shut.

'Better?' she asked, holding up some of the food for him without looking back.

 _Better?_ he squeaked mentally. Yes, warmth was rushing through him, but how much of it was due to Elissa's body heat was, well, it was _all_ because of Elissa's proximity, but not just-- _Oh Maker, help me,_ Alistair pleaded. He coughed to clear his throat.

'Better,' he replied hoarsely, taking the food from her. He heard her chuckle as she reached up to pull the blanket closer around them both.

For a while there was a companionable, munching silence. They slowly warmed up, cocooned inside the blanket. When Alistair had finished eating, however, he all but had an existential crisis over where to put his hands.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world to wrap his arms around Elissa's waist - but should he, could he, _dare_ he? He gulped, acutely aware of his own inexperience, even though he was desperately certain of what he _wanted t_ o do.

Slowly, carefully, Alistair slipped his strong arms around Elissa's middle. He did everything he could not to jar her injury, marvelling at how perfectly she fit in his arms. She sighed contentedly, allowing her head to lean back against his shoulder as her eyes fluttered closed.

His heart was beating hard, and he wondered if she could feel it. Probably. She was warm and soft against him, her hair spilling over his shoulder to tickle his skin. He'd never seen her so vulnerable. She spent so much time being strong for everyone else; all he wanted was to keep her safe.

They sat there like that for a while, and Alistair wondered if he was dreaming. A braver man might have kissed her, might have whispered sweet promises against her ear. But he just held her. By the Maker, wasn't that enough? To keep her safe and warm when she was hurt, to be whatever she needed him to be? Wasn't that love? He didn't rightly know, but it felt like it to him.

'We should go to sleep,' he eventually murmured, nuzzling her slightly. The gesture felt so natural and right that he didn't question it, even though just ten minutes ago he'd have been scarlet with embarrassment just at the thought. She mumbled something indiscernible before coming round and blinking up at him.

He lifted an arm to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. 

'Sleep,' he repeated, smiling gently.

'You're right,' she sighed, sitting forward and rubbing at her face. Alistair felt cold without her in his arms; she did too, by the looks of the small shiver that rippled across her shoulders.

'Come on, before we get cold again,' she said, extricating herself from his legs and sitting patiently at the top of the bedroll.

He looked at her, uncomprehending. Elissa patted the space next to her, and he finally got the idea. Despite himself, he blushed, hesitating.

'I don't bite,' she informed him, before quirking an eyebrow. 'Unless you like that sort of thing?'

'Stop teasing the Chantry boy,' he chided, shuffling over to her side.

'What? Did the Chantry not--'

He cut her off, pressing a finger to her lips. She smiled, her lips brushing against the calloused skin of his finger, and all Alistair's attempts at looking stern crumpled. He shook his head, lying down and kicking at the blanket until it covered him from head to toe before looking up at Elissa, expecting her to join him. She was gazing down at him with a look in her eyes that made his heart do cartwheels.

'Come here,' he said softly, already anticipating the feel of her warm body against his own.

She turned away momentarily to snuff out their lantern, leaving the room in a dark tapestry of shadows and moonlight. He felt rather than saw her slide in next to him, tucking herself against his chest and letting out another contented sigh. Putting a tender arm around her, Alistair kissed the top of her head, sincerely hoping that this is how he would spend every night for the rest of his life.


End file.
